That Side of the Glass
by ThatSassyCaptain
Summary: Mr. Sulu has the Con, and the Enterprise is hurtling into disaster! In the middle of an unknown anomaly, our heroes discover The USS Kelvin? What will they encounter in this adventure of alternate timelines? Is the Kelvin a threat, or is something greater lurking in the shadows of space? Set after Star Trek: Into Darkness. Hint of Spock/Uhura, but only 'cause the movie does it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My Second fic is underway!Yeah! FYI, I don't own any of these characters. Thank you, Gene Roddenberry for creating them and JJ Abrams for adapting them. I just write simple fan-fic, thank you.  
**

Chapter 1: Command Complications

SULU:

Hikaru Sulu had the Conn. He sat in the Captain's chair overlooking the bridge. The hums and whistles of the bridge stations he was used to hearing seemed different from this perspective. They had more meaning, possibly a vast importance to the whole of the ship, instead of an alert to a single department. Everything about the Captain's chair radiated power and duty. Each action, each command could completely alter the _Enterprise's_ mission, or its fate.

To his far right, Mr. Spock sat at his station monitoring… monitoring whatever it was. Radiation? Shields? Sulu could never be sure. It seemed like Spock did his job, part of the Captain's job, and a whole variety of miscellaneous duties one wouldn't normally associate with those of a First Officer. But, Spock did his job and did it well. That was all that Sulu was concerned about. A little ways off behind him, Lt. Uhura monitored subspace frequencies, transmissions, and inter-deck communications. "Communications Officer" summed up the duty pretty well. He was never really confused about Uhura's position, but at the same time, she continued to surprise the bridge crew with hidden talents. Uhura could sing, re-wire a computer console to boost subspace frequencies, and (quite recently, the discovered,) take out an invasion party of Romulans with only her left boot and a hot tray of soup as weapons. No, "communications" hardly described Uhura, or her position aboard the _Enterprise._ Right now though, she was doing job efficiently as well. Sulu faced the viewing screen once again. He didn't have the concentration skills that his captain could whip out while in the command chair, but Sulu knew he would have to draw from all of his observations to perform this duty.

The Captain was out for the week- Doctor's orders. While headed towards Starbase 6, their next destination, The _Enterprise_ unexpectedly discovered an asteroid belt. Scanners hadn't picked it up initially, and by the time they did it was almost too late. The Captain ordered full stop, slam-on-the-brakes-Mr.-Sulu. Unfortunately, with the fine-tuning and detailed attention Mr. Scott paid to the _Enterprise's_ workings, a full stop meant _a full stop_. The ship slammed to a halt, throwing several crew members- and Captain Kirk among them- from their posts. Sulu was almost thrown from his own station, but had managed to grip the side of his console before the impact slid him all the way up onto the table. The Captain hadn't been quite so prepared, as he was in the middle of a call to Sickbay (thank goodness for that, the medical crew and Doctor McCoy had been on the scene in record time because of it) and was thrown all the way into the navigation console. He landed headfirst next to Ensign Chekov, who had flipped over the top of his console and landed on the floor mostly unharmed. The collision left Kirk unconscious and heavily concussed. On Dr. McCoy's orders, he was confined to quarters for rest until further notice.

Sulu had the Conn, Lt. Riley was handling navigation while Chekov was on lunch break, and Lt. Kyle had the helm. Everything was proceeding smoothly. Sulu shifted his weight in the Captain's chair. The responsibility of it all was never lost on him. He knew the types of calls he would have to make. He knew the risks and decisions Captain Kirk had left him in charge of. Sulu glanced around the bridge again, out of what he could almost call "nervous habit". Unfortunately for Sulu, Mr. Spock's duties as first-officer on this mission were essential, so his position had been left intact during the Captain's absence. Spock would be cataloguing and examining some of the weapons that survived the maiden (and final) voyage of the _USS Vengeance._ They had been moved out to Starbase 6 for research shortly after the incident. As far as Sulu knew, Mr. Spock was busying himself by researching and memorizing the inventory and specification details of the arms. In fact, at second glance, everyone on the bridge seemed to be actively working. _Everyone except me_, he thought. No, Sulu was doing his job just fine. The chair brought more than authority. It gave the occupant a sense of nervous tension, like something could go wrong at any moment. Right now, Sulu was the active watchdog, safeguarding the _Enterprise_ through his alertness.

He was wide awake and alert when Mr. Spock made an unexpected report.

"Captain, the sensors are showing an intense field of radiation several hundred thousand kilometers ahead of our position. I am detecting gamma radiation at the center of the event, which is rapidly increasing in size. Along the path of our current course, we should arrive at the phenomenon in approximately 3.72 minutes."

Sulu sat forward in the chair. "Helm, bring us out of warp. I want to come up on this thing on impulse power. Full shields, screens up. I don't want to take any chances after the asteroid incident." All stations complied. A thought suddenly occurred to him: _There may be something wrong with the scanners_. They hadn't picked up the asteroid belt until it was almost too late, and now they registered an unknown pattern of radiation from just several hundred _thousand _kilometers away. Something just wasn't right here, and Sulu was not going to risk The _Enterprise_ for anything.

"We are closing in on the event, Captain." Mr. Spock reported from his post.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. Can we get a visual onscreen?"

"Not yet, Captain. A few thousand kilometers more and it will be within range."

"All right. Continue helm. Quarter speed."

The _Enterprise_ moved forward at what seemed like a snail's pace compared to the speed of normal space travel. Sulu had his eyes fixed on the screen. Soon, whatever this was would come within range. In a few moments, they would be coming right up on-

"Captain! We've picked up a ship on the scanners. It does not appear to have come out of warp recently."

Sulu raised his eyebrows. "A ship? Can we get a visual on it?"

"Right away, sir."

The picture came into focus almost at once. There is was, a far-off starship framed by a swirling pink cloud that crackled with electricity. _The radiation. That cloud must be its source… or at least its effect…_ Sulu took a closer look at the ship. Though incredibly small onscreen, it appeared to be a Federation ship, and not in very good condition either.

"What's the status of that ship? Do they have life support? Comms? Lieutenant Uhura, try hailing them, all frequencies. Alert sickbay as well. We may be dealing with casualties. Contact Mr. Scott in engineering and have him stand by. If there are any survivors, they may have to be beamed over."

Uhura went straight to her task. Hailing frequencies opened. Sickbay was alerted. Engineering stood by.

"Can we get a better look at the ship? Increase zoom factor to four-hundred percent."

"Not possible, Captain." Sulu heard the murmured "Fascinating" from the First Officer's station. "I do not know why, but the viewing screen is not responding to my input. However, my scanners are functioning correctly. Their life support appears to be operative, Captain. The warp drive appears to be offline, and the ship is running on emergency power. The cause of their distress is still unknown."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. Uhura? Any response from the ship? Do we know who they are?"

Uhura tapped several buttons at her station and held a hand to her earpiece. "Yes, Captain, we have established contact. The ship encountered the radiation event with malfunctioning shields; apparently they've lost primary power and several other systems-…"

Sulu turned to look at Uhura. Her unexpected pause was followed by full silence on the bridge. Everyone, including the acting Captain, was focused on her. Sulu began to notice the change that had come over her features. Uhura seemed shocked, frightened, and puzzled all at the same time.

"Lieutenant…?"

Uhura shook herself out of her trance. "Sorry Captain. I... I didn't quite believe it at first but… It appears we've made contact with the _USS Kelvin_. They're… They're requesting to transport their Chief Medical Officer, First Officer, and some other personnel over to discuss repairs and our plans for assistance. I know it's an irregular procedure, but they're insisting." Uhura fell silent again for a moment, but began again quickly. "The _Kelvin_ is requesting to meet you, our First Officer, and Medical Officer in the transporter room. They…." Uhura looked Sulu right in the eye when she relayed the last part of the communication. "They're beaming over their _Captain._"

Sulu whirled back around and leapt out of the Captain's chair. "Mr. Kyle! Take the Conn. Mr. Spock, Lieutenant, with me. Someone call Sickbay and tell Dr. McCoy to meet us down there!" The three of them dashed to the lift and began their descent to the transporter room.

CHEKOV:

Ensign Pavel Andrevich Chekov was in his quarters enjoying lunch. Today, he had soup. The steaming bowl of hot Chicken Noodle sat patiently on the table while Chekov rooted through his cabinets for a good napkin. A package of crackers lay unopened on the table, ready and waiting for a swim in the creamy soup. The silverware was all present and accounted for. "Aha!" Chekov pulled a nice white napkin from the mess of assorted fabrics in the cabinet. The shirts, civvies, and tablecloths would have to be organized later. Right now, it was time for lunch. The young Ensign enjoyed an occasional quiet lunch in his quarters, free from the ruckus and gossip of the mess hall. Not that he didn't enjoy some friendly gossip. Any good story floating around the _Enterprise _today would be eagerly re-hashed by his crewmembers later on. He took his seat and scooted the chair up close to the table, almost to the point where his ribs met metal. Chekov folded the napkin and placed it to one side. He reached for the package of crackers and carefully tore open one end. Chekov removed a few of the squares from the wrapping and crushed them over the top of the bowl. He stirred the saltines and soup together with his spoon.

"Ah. Now _here_ is a delicious lunch!" He was about to dig in, when someone buzzed for him at the door. Chekov decided that whoever it was could probably conduct their business over lunch. He lifted a spoonful toward his mouth, called "Come" to his visitor, and then slurped his much anticipated soup. The door slid open, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar outline of Dr. McCoy approaching the table. Chekov reached for the napkin with his free hand. "Doctor McCoy! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you by—"

A hand clamped over his face, smothering his greeting. Chekov released the spoon just as something stabbed sharply into the side of his neck. He brought up his hands to fight off his attacker, but his strength died in the motion. He drew a deep breath through his nose so he could attempt to call for help, but the effort died in his lungs. A dense fog rapidly encroached on his vision. Chekov's lungs released the panicked breath as he fell sideways to the ground. In his last moments of consciousness, he heard, _impossibly,_ the voice of Dr. McCoy.

"Good thing you didn't shout. Shouting would've made things... difficult. Y'know, I always hated you, kid. Overly-ambitious, maniacal, Russian smart-alec."

The voice seemed wrong though. It was much harsher and colder than the McCoy he knew. Chekov felt himself being hauled up by one arm and dragged out into the corridor before he lost consciousness completely.

_**Gasp! Whatever will happen?**_** Please post review and tell me what I did or didn't do right so I can fix it!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Opening Move

UHURA:

"Chekov. Chekov, wake up! Pavel, can you hear me?"

Chekov stirred and tried to sit up, but an unseen weight kept him slumped over. He opened his eyes to find himself looking up into the lovely face of Lieutenant Uhura.

He spoke his mind, having no control of it at this time. "Well, if it isn't the lowe-well-ly Lieutenant Uhura!" Chekov smiled drowsily. His voice slurred as he struggled to focus his vision. No luck.

Uhura looked down at Chekov, who had been leaning on her shoulder for quite some time. "Ensign," she began, "Do try and sit up. You've been drooling on my uniform." Chekov responded immediately, rather too quickly for someone just recovering from a drug-educed nap. He swayed a bit, but managed to hold his balance. Uhura watched as his bleary eyes surveyed the small room. They were sitting up against a low table, much akin to a kitchen island, in the middle of what could've been anything from a pretty large closet to a pretty small conference room on the _Enterprise._ Uhura was sure they were still onboard. The hum of the ship was the same. The familiar feelings of her space-home were present all around, though the current circumstances puzzled her. Chekov seemed pretty confused as well. Finally, his head swiveled to the left. Uhura watched him stiffen as he saw what she knew he'd see.

"Meester Sulu!" Chekov tried to make his way over to the adjacent corner of the table, but ended up lunging face first into the floor. She'd been aware of Sulu's silent presence in the room from the glimpses she'd caught of the top of his head. Her view was unobstructed _completely_ for the first time since she'd regained consciousness in the small room. Uhura was finally able to get a good look at Mr. Sulu's condition for herself. He seemed in a rather bad way right off the bat. Bruises covered the right side of his face. His right sleeve was soaked with blood. She couldn't see a cut, but it could be someone else's blood, or the effects of a side-wound. Unfortunately, the bonds that pinned his arms behind his back did nothing to improve this condition. Uhura noticed they were all trapped in a similar manner. Chekov and Sulu were each trapped in a double-pronged system of restraint that included a slim, rubbery adaptation of handcuffs that attached to a bad securing the arms. The second restraint consisted of a buckled restraint of the same rubbery material that clasped around the ankles. Chekov's instinctual leap forward had been thwarted by this system. Uhura loosened up her neck for the first time in hours and surveyed her own condition. She was totally uninjured as far as she could tell. Her arms were held down at the elbow by the strap, but unlike Chekov and Sulu, her hands and feet remained free. Sulu seemed so securely tied that Uhura doubted he'd be able to manage even as much movement as Chekov had.

Chekov, meanwhile, was recovering from his hasty face plant. Discovering for the first time his predicament of restricted movement, he lifted first his head from the floor. Next, he rolled to his side, and slowly managed to sit up and face Uhura. She gasped as the front of his yellow shirt quickly soaked red. In the fall, Chekov had triggered a massive nosebleed. He shook his head from side to side, no doubt trying to clear his vision, and inadvertently scattered blood everywhere.

"Chekov! Your nose!" At the warning, he looked down and crossed his eyes. "Huh. Would you look ad zat?" His words were altered once more with the damage to his nose. Chekov swayed and then leaned up against the low table. He shuffled and struggled until he was once again sitting upright. Uhura noticed that his eyes were still crossed. _Strange, _she thought, _Chekov's having a much harder time shaking this stuff than I did..._ He did appear to have been out longer, though Uhura didn't know if they'd been drugged at the same time. The last thing she could remember was rushing into the transporter room. Spock shouted something, and then: nothing. The next thing she knew, she was trapped in the little room with Sulu almost out of her field of vision and Chekov drooling on her shoulder. Now it was his shirt that was soaked, but with quite a different substance. He was trying to say something.

"Whad... Whad happent to Meesther Sulu?" Her extensive background with linguistics had prepared her for this moment. "I don't know what happened to him, Chekov. Though, it looks like he took a beating." Almost as if on cue, Sulu twitched. _He's finally waking up, _she thought. Uhura watched as Sulu slowly, and as far as she could tell painfully, regained consciousness. His eyes clenched shut as he tried to shake the fuzzy feeling from his head. "Uhura..? Spock…? Where's McCoy, he should be here already…"

Uhura was puzzled for a moment. _In his mind, he must still be in the Transporter Room._ She tried to get through to him. "Hikaru? It's Uhura. We're… We're stuck on the Enterprise somewhere. I don't know what happened or where Spock is. I haven't seen Dr. McCoy either. But, Chekov is here for some reason. Sulu..? Sulu, do you hear me?" Sulu blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light and new consciousness. "Uhura? Uhura, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Sulu. It's you I'm worried about. What happened to your arm?"

"It was… right after the other Spock got you. The other me came out and-"

Uhura wasn't sure she had heard Sulu right. "_Other …_Spock_!? Other _YOU_? _ What are you talking about, Sulu?"

He shook his head again and winced. "You gotta listen. It freaked me out, but I'm not joking. I don't know how, but there were _two_ Spocks. _Two_ McCoys. _Two_ of me even. They all came out of the transporter and hit us before we even knew what was happening. Scotty didn't even have time to contact anyone before… Before that other McCoy leapt right over the console and attacked him. I've never seen _our_ CMO move like that. That other Spock was just as fast as ours, too. You were down first, Vulcan-neck-thing, I think. Then Spock was taken out, and then they just restrained our McCoy. After that, well," He paused and shrugged slightly, "After that, the Other Sulu took great pleasure in beating the snot out of me."

Uhura was stunned. She couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around what had happened. _Two of everyone? What did that radiation event do? And what about-_

"Sulu! What about the _USS Kelvin_?"

"The _Kelvin_? I don't-…"

Just then, the door to the small room slid open. A red-shirted security guard in a strange golden sash and odd decoration appeared, and shoved a surprisingly calm, but restrained Leonard McCoy into the room. He was traveling too fast for his feet to keep up. McCoy stumbled and slid to a stop in front of Uhura and Chekov. As he righted himself, Uhura noticed another set of footsteps approaching. A figure stepped through the narrow doorway into the rapidly crowding room. If it hadn't been for Sulu's story, Uhura might not have believed her own eyes. There, standing before her, _as well as kneeling uncomfortably beside her_, was Doctor McCoy. And Doctor McCoy. Except the man in the doorway wasn't quite as he should have been. This doctor was dressed in what appeared to be a standard Starfleet uniform, but it was worn underneath a bright white lab coat. He had a gold sash and the same decoration as the security officer on his coat collar: what looked like a sword skewering a circle, a planet maybe. This McCoy was distinguishable from her Doctor in another way: He had an ugly red scar that stretched from his right cheekbone to his jaw line on the left side. When he sneered, it puckered at the edges. The whole scene was eerie. Uhura felt the uncontrollable urge to shudder. This Doctor radiated power and malice unlike anyone, _well, almost anyone_, she had ever seen.

After a long period of tense silence, the other doctor spoke. His voice was low at first, raspy in a false whisper, but then rose with a chilling air of subdued passion. He had absolute power here, and he knew it. "Well well well," he began. Uhura found that she was unable to tear her eyes away from the Other Doctor. It was the feeling one had when observing an imminent danger: don't let them out of your sight.

"It looks like everyone's here at last. All the players coming to play." He smirked at Uhura's McCoy. "Here are you patients and," he nodded to Uhura, "Here is your nurse. You're going to participate in a little game I've arranged for you. A bit of 'Mystery Medicine', but you're playing against time. Get busy, Doctor. As you yerself just mentioned, my 'barbarian bone-hacking' leaves much to be desired. See if y' can get these fellas ship-shape before they ship off. The clock's been ticking, Doctor McCoy. You and your nurse should get busy." He cackled and turned to leave. The security officer kept his eyes on the room until the other doctor was clear, and then pressed a few buttons on the outside panel. The door slid shut with an ominous click of finality.

Uhura looked over to Dr. McCoy, who was back on his feet, scowling. "Doctor McCoy!" He turned his head to look at her. She saw the tired look in his eyes. Exhaustion, yes, but something else. _Fear? Concern?_ Something about the way he looked back at the door told her she need not ask about what had just happened. It might've been too terrible to mention. _Just focus on the matter at hand. If I got that psychopath's meaning right, someone in here is dying. Doctor McCoy needs my help._ Uhura cleared her throat and began again.

"Doctor McCoy, are you alright? Not injured or anything?"

McCoy looked back over and nodded. "Yeah, I'm OK." He jerked his head in the direction of the woozy Ensign. "How's Chekov? Did he get into a fistfight with a wall or somethin'?"

"No. He's been pretty heavily drugged as far as I can tell. He'd been out cold until just a few minutes ago."

McCoy's eyes widened. "_That_ long? Dad-gum that crazy-... That _Other_ McCoy must've calculated the dose wrong or something. No way a little ol' sedative like what was in those hypos would've kept Mr. Metabolism here out for so long. Either that or it's something else. Doctor Sawbones is playing a game with us. He might've tampered with the injections." McCoy looked down at his hands, an interesting feat, for they were pinned behind his back. He wiggled his fingers, and then shook out his wrists. "I think I could get you loose if you can get over here. These handcuff things aren't key-release or anything. Can you stand? You're not as bad off as these two, right? No internal injuries, spasms, bone damage…? Geez I hope not…"

Uhura shifted her weight and moved her feet together. Leaning up against the little table, she pushed herself to her up off the ground. Immediately, the pins and needles started in her feet and calves. Ignoring the numbness, Uhura made her way over to McCoy. "No, I think I'm OK. Sulu said that Other Spock got me, which rules out tainted sedatives. You know. That Vulcan nerve thing he does..."

"Yeah. Drives me crazy sometimes. He just pats 'em on the shoulder and they're out like a light. Y'know, he should really think about becoming a nurse. I wouldn't have to worry about needle-shy patients anymore. Huh… What a thought…"

"_You'd_ put up with that? Spock being in Sickbay all the time…"

"Oh no! NO, geez, of course not! If Spock signed up for nursing duty in _my_ Sickbay, I'd demand a refusal or request myself a transfer quicker than you could say- Oh wait... I think I've got it…"

Uhura's bonds loosened, and then slipped completely. She stretched her elbows out quickly, and then got to work freeing Doctor McCoy. "Yep, Uhura m'dear, that's those 'magic hands' of mine hard at work. And boy does it look like I've got my work cut out for me. Here we've got these two: poor Mister Sulu and Dizzy the Kid." McCoy's arms were freed and he stretched over his head. "Well, let's see what we have to work with."

He and Uhura decided to loose Sulu first, since his injuries seemed most urgent. Seeing him from the front, Uhura discovered that Sulu's injuries were much more extensive than she'd originally thought. He had several cuts on the other side of his face, as well as some bad gashes on his left arm. Something had sliced holes in his shirt around the ribcage as well, though all cuts there were superficial.

Doctor McCoy got right to work examining Sulu's arm. He found a tear near the shoulder seam of Sulu's uniform and ripped the rest of the stitching there with it. Gingerly, he tore the yellow fabric at the shoulder seam and removed the sleeve. Underneath the blood-soaked fabric, Sulu's arm was bruised, swollen, and clearly broken. McCoy let out a low whistle. "Knowing you, Sulu," he began, "I'm surprised that other guy didn't come out worse than he did." Uhura watched the Doctor. Despite his joking demeanor, the half-smile never reached his eyes. Sulu chuckled dryly. "I guess the whole 'Twin empathy' theory doesn't hold water." Uhura saw his light-hearted attitude wasn't genuine either. "I couldn't put you in any danger Doc. You saw those daggers they had. Speaking of… Have you seen Scotty anywhere? I didn't see anything after that Other McCoy jumped the console. He had that knife and…" Sulu's voice trailed off. McCoy stopped his examination and stared blankly, his thoughts far away, at the gaping wound in Sulu's upper arm. He sighed. "No. I didn't see what happened. Other Spock knocked me out as soon as you'd gone down. Here, let's get that arm bandaged."

McCoy took the shirt sleeve and tore it in half, almost all the way long ways. He fashioned a makeshift bandage out of it, a trick he'd learned during a Field First-Aid class at the Academy. "Mr. Sulu," he began, "I'm sorry, but I'm gonna need that other sleeve. I need to secure your arm. Movement will only make it worse, and I don't have any bandages on me." Sulu nodded, and held out his left arm. McCoy repeated the process, but this time wrapped the bandage over Sulu's shoulder and around again. Sulu's arm was suspended across his chest with his fingers resting against his collarbone. He sat all the way up once Doctor McCoy had given the go-ahead.

"That's much better. Doctor, thank you." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You wouldn't happen to have any pain-killers on hand, would you?"

"Mr. Sulu," McCoy replied, "if I had any painkillers, I would've taken a double-dose already. Alright, Uhura, let's check on Mr. Chekov."

Chekov was still propped up against the table. Uhura untied him and tried to get him sitting up again. He wasn't responding. McCoy cursed under his breath. Something about that "Quack Barbarian Doppelganger". He was looking more agitated by the minute, Uhura observed. _He's under a lot of stress. I've heard stories from the away teams about how he 'gets anxious and protective' when he's got a patient outside of Sickbay._ This made sense, of course. Sickbay had bio-beds, nurses, and _medical supplies._ McCoy was looking around the room. Unsatisfied by his search, he sighed. "Better get 'im on the table." He said aloud. McCoy and Uhura worked together to lift Chekov's deadweight up onto the island. McCoy grabbed the collar of Chekov's shirt to clean off the remnants of the Ensign's now coagulated nosebleed. Suddenly, he dropped the cloth and leaned close over Chekov. The Doctor hovered for a few seconds, and then turned his patient's head to one side. He grimaced.

Uhura leaned over to try and see what had McCoy so upset. "What's wrong, Doctor?"

McCoy stood back up and wiped a bit of blood off of his hands. "It's that puncture wound on his neck. An injection, definitely, but I'm concerned about the bruising. That's pretty irregular, even for that maniac in the lab coat. I bet he stabbed poor Chekov full-force and 'twisted the knife'. Now, I don't know about the standards on his _Enterprise_, but he's no amateur. A bruise pattern like this doesn't happen with hypos, even if they're applied the same way one would 'apply' an ice pick. This is suspicious. You might even think he'd been stabbed with an old-fashioned needle. But, something like that would-" McCoy's words stopped dead and he quickly leaned back over Chekov. "Uh oh."

_ Uh oh? What's Uh oh? _"Doctor..?" McCoy took Chekov's pulse. He rolled up his own sleeve and placed his wrist on Chekov's forehead. "The kid's burning up! Quick, get this soaking shirt offa' him. It's probably giving him chills with the temperature as it is in here." McCoy glanced over at Sulu and then to the door. "Sulu, you get over here and help Uhura. Once you guys get that shirt off, you'll have to keep him warm so he can sweat off the fever. Give 'im a bear hug if you have to, just help him stay warm. I'll be right back..."

Uhura got the no-longer-very- yellow shirt off of Chekov. The blood had soaked partially through to his black undershirt, but not enough to affect his temperature. Uhura grabbed Chekov under the arms and propped him up against her shoulder. Sulu was standing by the other side of the table. "Here, Hikaru, sit down." _Help me out, you idiot,_ she didn't say. He sat, with his back facing her and Chekov. Uhura leaned the feverish Ensign up against Sulu's back face-first, and then bear-hugged him. _Well, Doctor's orders. Geez, I hope Spock doesn't walk in. I'm sure he'd find it 'illogical' and take it totally the wrong way. Oh, I just hope he's alright, wherever he is._

She watched McCoy march over to the closed door. "Where are you headed off to?" _Don't leave me here with these two…_ He ignored her and raised his fist to pound on the metal door. "Hey, you out there! Open up! I gotta talk to your doctor. It's an emergency. _Open up, Dang it_!"

- End, Ch 2


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's the third chapter! I hope y'all like it! Hey- In case you didn't know, I don't own Star Trek, I just like to dabble in the beautiful universe.**

**Reviews are welcome! But seriously. Even if it's just "Meh." I'd love it, guys.**

SPOCK:

Spock felt the Captain stir at last. They had been tied back to back for some time in an unfamiliar room. Spock, upon regaining consciousness, was aware of the environmental continuity. They were still onboard the _Enterprise_. Spock craned his neck in order to get a look at the Captain. Unlike Spock, whose Vulcan immune system enabled him to recover from the sedative mere minutes after its administration, (He came to himself as he was being hustled down one of the _Enterprise's_ corridors) Captain Kirk was brought in unconscious, and had remained so for about half an hour. Spock couldn't see the Captain's face, or make any observations about his current state. He had been monitoring the Captain's breathing and heartbeat for some time, utilizing his extra-sensitive Vulcan nerve endings. Through his back, he could feel the Captain's lungs expand in shallow, _but not irregular for human sleep cycles,_ breaths. His heartbeats were strong, but also in a sleep-like pattern.

"Captain? Jim, are you awake? Can you hear me?" No response. He must not have reached full consciousness or awareness._ The effects of the Captain's accident combined with the sedative our captors must have administered to subdue him may have caused a delay in the Captain's recovery._ He was about to try and jostle his companion when Spock was momentarily distracted by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Muffled voices could be heard but not understood through the thick metal doors. Spock briefly contemplated the possible identities of those on the other side, but dismissed the pursuit. _I will either find out momentarily, or never know at all. There is no point in wasting my energy in this manner._ No, Spock was preparing himself for something else. He would have to face their captors, and potentially, their questions. The puzzle of identities would have to wait. Spock glanced back at Jim, who was still slumped forward. As much as he would like to help, the circumstances required another course of action. Right now, even the Captain would have to become a secondary concern.

Spock was refocusing his mind when the doors slid open. For a split-second, Spock experienced surprise at what he saw, but then redoubled his efforts in concentration. The door opened to reveal a James T. Kirk identical in almost all ways to the one Spock knew. The one Spock was certain to be semi-conscious behind him. Behind this second Kirk, followed a second Spock, who, to Spock's surprise, wore a goatee. Both were dressed in the uniform of this other world, gold sashes and the strange emblem of the skewered planet Earth. Though, Spock noticed, this Captain's uniform differed from the other command uniforms he had seen thus far. The tunic had no sleeves, a sharper cut of the neckline, and a greenish tint. _Fascinating. The barbaric nature of the crew is reflected in their uniforms and manifested in several different forms. It would be interesting to study this in more detail, but there are other matters at hand._

The Other Captain strode in with all of the cocky confidence Spock was familiar with in his own Captain. He sauntered up to Spock and knelt down to meet his eyes.

"We-ell. Looky what we have here, Mr. Spock! It's Mr. Spock." He chuckled, a bubbly, familiar noise that would have sent chills down the spine of any other man. Had Spock been human, he might have shuddered. "At least," the Other Captain continued, "I think he is. All you Vulcans look the same to me." If it had not been for the cold hatred in the Other Captain's eyes, Spock might have mistaken his casual, carefree attitude as genuine. _He may be attempting to lower my guard by approximating my Captain's attitude and mannerisms, _Spock considered. The Other Spock merely studied him and raised a curious eyebrow. "Yeah... Yeah," The Other Captain began again, "It's… what's that thing you're always saying Spock? 'Interesting'?"

"Fascinating, Captain."

Other Kirk pushed himself back up to a standing position. "That's it, Spock, _Fascinating_." His mocking tone was directed at Spock, not his own First Officer. _This Other Captain has an incredible grasp of the situation and the similarities between our two timelines. He is indeed the 'mirror image' of my Captain, possessing the same intelligence and strategic abilities. _The Other Captain paced around the sitting pair once, and returned to face Spock once again.

"Tell me, Mr. Spock," he shook a hand dismissively at his own first officer, "Not _you_ Mr. Spock, _this_ Mr. Spock. Tell me, Mr. Spock; am I correct in believing we are onboard the _USS Enterprise_?"

Spock stayed silent. He would not participate in this Other Captain's games. He focused his mind once again, preparing for the inevitable route this interrogation would take. The silence seemed to irritate the Other Captain. His eyes darkened, and he was very nearly scowling. When he spoke now, the carefree demeanor was gone, replaced by cold steel.

"All righty, Mr. Spock," He spat, "Let's see if _your_ Captain is more cooperative." He walked quickly behind Spock to presumably face Captain Kirk. Spock was unprepared for this. The ruthlessness of the Other Captain was to be expected based upon his experiences with these 'evil counterparts' thus far, but the immediate change in tactics surprised him. Spock felt the Captain jolt behind him. The Other Kirk must have struck him. He steeled his nerves, displaying no reaction to the Other Spock, who observed him closely. _I am sorry, Captain. For your own safety, I must not break._ He was ready, or nearly ready, for the real trial. The Other Kirk came back into view, brushing a bit of blood off on his pant leg.

"Mr. Spock," He addressed his First Officer, "Have at it."

The Other Spock stepped forward. Spock's mind raced. This was a possibility he had considered, but had no fully prepared for. However, his mind did not fail him. Spock thought back to a lesson his father had taught him, long ago. As a child, he had been bullied by the Vulcan children because of his heritage. Spock diligently continued his studies in an effort to be as Vulcan as possible. And, secretly, his father had taught him more. Spock's mother had been spared the knowledge of the darker side of Vulcan tradition. Sarek, for his wife's sake, had never divulged information on the dangers he endeavored to protect Spock against. With these thoughts in mind, Spock readied himself. It took only a moment. The Other Spock knelt down in front of him. Raising his left hand, he did just as Spock had predicted. _Your attempt to force a mind meld will fail. I will not permit you to access my thoughts._

A voice penetrated into his mind. No words were spoken out loud, but Spock clearly heard a voice much like his own.

_ We shall see._

The struggle lasted only minutes, but time does not pass regularly in the mind. The Other Captain grew impatient. "What is taking so long, Spock?" He whined, barely refraining from shouting. He was clearly irritated, a fact that Spock missed in his complete concentration. Fully focused on the defense of his mind, Spock fought back. Without severing the connection, the Other Spock answered his Captain, "He is attempting to block the mind-meld, Captain. I had not thought it possible, but this alternate Spock possesses a talent I cannot match." The Other Kirk fumed, clearly furious at the wasted effort.

"Cut it out, Spock. We can use other methods to persuade him to talk." Other Kirk seemed to lose focus for a second. He stared off into the distance for a moment before snapping back to reality. "Mr. Spock, loose your counterpart from that deadweight. Leave it here, and keep an eye on your other self. He's coming with us."

Spock did nothing to assist the Other Spock as he was detached from the Captain. He did get a chance to glance back as he was being ushered toward the door, and fought once again to maintain an impassive mask. _Nothing I do will betray weakness. Nothing will endanger my friend, or my crew. _The door closed on the image of Kirk, slumped over on the floor, and dead to the world.

McCOY: 

Doctor McCoy was being marched down a corridor by six armed security officers. _I'm either the President of the Federation, or John Harrison. Huh. Neither one really gets me anywhere when these psychopaths are concerned. _McCoy noticed that the hallways were all empty. Something wasn't right. If there was an invasion, surely he would see more of the gold-sashed nut jobs, or fighting crewmembers of his own. Not a soul. He did notice, however, that the halls seemed darker than those he was used to. Stray scorch marks appeared at the odd corner, and Dr. McCoy was sure they'd just walked through a pool of dried blood. _Where is everyone?_ He was getting nervous. As the procession rounded another corner approaching Sickbay, they nearly collided with the Other Doctor.

"What do you fools think you're doing?" He wrenched what McCoy guessed was their version of a hand-phaser, an itty-bitty box about the size of his palm, from a guard's grasp. The Sawbones leveled the thing at McCoy's head and shoved him backwards. He stumbled, falling into one of the Security men. The guard caught him, and tightened his grip around McCoy's shoulders. Held in an iron grip, he was trapped face-to-face with the Other Doctor. Sawbones, as he had begun calling him in his mind, waved the little box around wildly. There was a murderous glint in his eyes. Surprise, but no fear, made itself evident in his voice and mannerisms. This was a dangerous combination in the cold-hearted 'physician'. He pointed the box back at McCoy and shouted at the Security team. "Get the doctor back to his patients. He should never have left. You know the Captain's orders!" The redshirt team fell back in to their previous formation, but the one guarding McCoy stayed put. The Sawbones was approaching.

McCoy held his ground, glaring as his counterpart stopped about a foot away. McCoy tensed, and in response, the guard wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled the Doctor back.

Sawbones chuckled. "Release him. I think I can handle him myself, don't you think, boys?" A wave of fear passed through the security team, McCoy could see it in their eyes. This doctor was something else to them. He wasn't a friend, or even a professional who could be trusted with medicine. This was a monster, McCoy realized, a monster that struck fear into the hearts of the victims who'd survived.

Facing the nightmare-man head on, McCoy stood up straight and looked right into his cold, sinister eyes.

"What do you think you're tryin' to pull, Doctor Frankenstein? Are you out of your twisted mind?"

Sawbones was taken aback. "Are you challenging me?" His voice rose with a bit of surprise and a bit of anger. McCoy fought off the instinct to gulp, or back off, or run. _Think of Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura. You need to show this boogeyman who's boss. If he wants to play a game, go ahead and play. There's no backing out now, the stakes are already too high._

"Let's get something straight, pal," he began in the most commanding tone he could muster, "I'm a doctor, not magician. I don't know what you think I'll be able to accomplish in there, but it won't be healing those men. I can guarantee you that." He stared hard at the Other Doctor. Any sign of weakness, any fluster or hesitation would spell doom for not only himself, but Chekov and Sulu as well. "If we're going to play this sick little game of yours, I'm going to need supplies, man, _supplies_. This isn't the Dark Ages! And I'll need more than knives and alcohol or basic first-aid. Huh, don't think you're foolin' me. Whatever you pumped into Chekov requires more than a shot and bed rest; I'd stake my life on it. So, here's how we're gonna do this: You give me the things I need, and I'll play your game. Have we got ourselves a deal?"

The Sawbones looked almost impressed behind his smirk. The expression reminded McCoy of a Klingon commander they'd once fought. The eyes were cold and calculating, and the whole face radiated anticipation. This was the face of a hunter who'd just sprung his trap. He nodded once, and his thin lips curled back into a grin. "Chekov. You sure are determined to save the little pest, aren't you? But, I guess things are a bit different where you come from. Tell me: is he as cunning and maniacal in your world as he was in mine?"

It was McCoy's turn to be surprised. "Chekov? Maniacal?" He snorted at the very idea. "The kid's like a hyperactive kitten. No, I figure he's about as maniacal as you are adorable, Frankenstein. So, am I getting my supplies, or am I going to have to resort to alternate means of obtaining them?

The quips didn't break the smirk, but something behind Sawbones' eyes snapped. It was with thinly veiled rage that he responded. "All right, Doctor," he sneered, "What is it that you need?"

McCoy stared him down. He wasn't going to give this maniac the satisfaction of a victory, even one so small as forcing McCoy to admit a forced shortcoming, like his inability to cure a complex disease with nothing but his head. He channeled his 'Doctor's persona', the aggressive attitude he usually reserved for arguing with Spock. Straight faced and determined, Bones responded:

"Gimme a tricorder, a stocked hypo, a roll of bandages, a few blankets, and a bottle of whiskey, you Cold-blooded Sociopath."

At an unseen signal, the Security team took several steps back. McCoy glanced at them, triumphant, and back at Sawbones just in time to take the full force of the punch to his face. This Doctor was obviously a physician _and_ a fighter. McCoy stumbled, stood, and shook off the blow. _Well, _I _might not be a fighter, but this is about something bigger than me. _He took one look at the arrogant smirk of the man across from him and had no trouble in coming back swinging.

- End Ch 3.

**Dun Dun DUNNNN! Go, McCoy! You can take 'im...you/him/you. The Mirror Universe is so confusing. **

**I think this was one of my favorite parts to write. And the story is finished by the way, I just have to finish uploading and editing it between school and school. Can't upload at school, dang it. But, go ahead and review what's already up. That'd be great, y'all. Thanks.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter's just a bit shorter than the others, but only because I have nowhere to cut the last one (there are five, total). So, enjoy! Reviews would be great. How many times did I misspell 'self'? What is sentence structure?**

**;)**

Chapter 4: The Real Battlefield

\\\\:

Back in the little conference room, Uhura paced the floor around the low table, fanning herself and agitatedly glancing at the door. Doctor McCoy sat on one edge, nursing his black eye with the bandages and leftover whiskey. Chekov was curled up in a ball on one corner of the room, fast asleep. Sulu paced the other side of the table.

"If you two don't cut out that darned pacing, I'll have to sedate you both and tie you up next to Chekov."

Uhura sat down on the edge of the table. "I'm sick of this waiting. Where's the Captain? Where's Spock? What have those maniacs done with them?" She gave a voice to the anxiety they were all feeling. As they were, the group was in no condition to find out, even if they could escape their prison.

McCoy lay back on the table and stretched his arms. "Y'know, I have no idea. But pacing up and down and driving me crazy won't help them any." He was trying to appear calm, now that the immediate crisis of Chekov's illness had passed, but he was worried. _If they had a handle on the situation, Spock and Jim would've come for us by now. It's been hours. And Jim wasn't doin' too well before all this nonsense. No telling how he is now…_ McCoy shook the thought from his head. Imagining his friend in the hands of that "Doctor" had nearly worried him to pieces on the march back from the Sickbay. There had only been one patient in the Sawbones' domain, but he was dressed the same way Jim was when he'd last seen him. _But, everyone is issued that black shirt. Chekov's wearing one, and so am I. So is Sulu. It could be literally anyone. No need to fuss over what you can't control. _It was the lack of control that was getting to him the most. He was used to working under set conditions in an environment he knew like the back of his hand. He would give almost anything to be in Sickbay, even imprisoned by these lunatics, but in his own Sickbay. He'd clear out the instruments of torture the Other Doctor'd brought along with him, and properly physic the daylights out of Sulu and Chekov and, heck, even make Uhura do a full physical scan to make sure she was alright. It was in this nerve-racked state that he rolled onto one side, remembered his damaged shoulder, and rolled back over again, thanking the good Lord his mama hadn't had twins.

Uhura had nothing to say to McCoy's complaint, so she kept quiet as he'd closed his eyes and attempted to doze. _How can he sit there so calmly while the Captain and Spock are out there somewhere? What about the rest of the crew? Where are they? I haven't seen anyone outside that door except the gold-sashed security team. They aren't too chatty either, or I'd try listening through the door._

She crossed and uncrossed her legs anxiously. All this waiting was driving her insane. She could appreciate how Sulu felt in the silence earlier. At least he had the steady beat of his own footsteps to fill the silence and ease his own mind now. Thanks to McCoy, she couldn't offer herself the same shallow comfort. _The man could get seasick in the Gobi Desert. He probably gets space sick just walking into Starfleet HQ. Huh I can't believe he isn't sick to his stomach now. Look at him. He's just lying there, taking a snooze, while the Captain and Spock are who-knows-where and there's nothing we can do about it._ She began reciting poetry in her head. Romulan, Klingon, Andorian_. _She skipped over Vulcan in order to keep her train of thought, but failed. _Spock always liked to hear those old Vulcan writings. Not poetry, but logical observation. Beautiful in its simplicity and straightforwardness. Kind of like him…_Suddenly, Her silent musings were interrupted by the Doctor, who cleared his throat loudly.

_ Oh I could just about kill him._

"You, know, I'm worried about 'em too." Uhura looked over to Doctor McCoy who had not moved a muscle, but still laid there, eyes closed.

"Yeah. We're all worried. So what do we do about it?"

"The way I figure, we sit here and wait. No matter how much I dislike the idea, the ball's in their court now. We can't make a move unless they make one first."

The more Uhura thought about this the more it made sense. There was nothing they could do within the conference room. Sulu would be questionable in a fight with only one usable arm, and Chekov would be absolutely worthless in his current state. _And every man we've seen so far has been armed._ Escaping could be a real problem unless an opportunity presented itself.

Outside, someone was walking up to the room. Uhura could hear the slow footsteps and the call of the guard. It was followed shortly by a muffled cry, another set of quick footsteps, and a thud. Suddenly, the door slid open, and someone fell through the entry. McCoy sat up quickly and stared wide-eyed at the doorway.

"_Jim!" _He rushed to the body on the floor. Turning the Captain over and cradling his head in his lap, McCoy did a quick examination, vitals: pulse, heartbeat, and breathing. "Oh, good." McCoy sighed and his shoulders dropped, visibly relieved. "He's still alive, but…. Totally unconscious. This is strange. He's nearly comatose. I don't understand how he could have…." A shadow passed over the Doctor and the Captain. Everyone looked up. Uhura gasped and…_Uhura gasped._

She was standing only a few feet away from her own doppelganger. Both seemed alarmed at the sight of the other. Uhura noticed that her twin wore the gold sash like her crewmates, but the uniform was different even from her comrades. The Other Uhura's was a two pieced uniform, one half being a skirt and the other a shortened uniform shirt with only one sleeve. Her hair was shorter than Uhura's, and she had bangs. This Other Uhura also carried one of those phaser weapons. Doctor McCoy, being the closest to the door, noticed before anyone else did.

"You… You, uh, took out the guard…" he stated dumbly, half shocked and half in-shock from the recovery of his closest friend.

It was true. The security officer lay outside the door, either unconscious or dead. Sulu took one look at the phaser-weapon and stepped forward. With all of this violence, torture, and death, maybe it was time to try a different approach: diplomacy. "As a show of good faith," he began, "How about you put that down?"

The Other Uhura smirked. "How about as a show of good faith I give you back your Captain, alive and relatively unharmed? There he is, Doctor. Found 'im in one of the smaller rooms on the upper decks." She turned to Uhura next. "I saw your Mr. Spock too." Seeing the look on Uhura's face, she smiled gently and continued, "Don't worry, he's alright for now. I saw him with my Spock and the Captain heading for the bridge. If we hurry, we can catch them before the Captain gets his hands on those codes."

Doctor McCoy stood up. From the subtle keys in her phrasing, mainly "my Spock" and "the Captain", he could tell with whom she placed her loyalty. This information could come in handy later, like when he found out where the Sawbones was concerned in all of this. But, in the interest of new information, he encouraged her. "Codes? What codes?"

The other Uhura looked at him blankly. "Don't you know? Did they not question you? The computer codes to your _Enterprise_."

SPOCK:

The lift doors slid open and revealed the bridge, empty, but intact in all its barbaric glory. Everything fell into place at last. Spock's suspicions were confirmed. The Other Captain stepped out of the lift first. He strode onto the abandoned bridge with an unusual spring in his step. Suddenly he turned on his heel and faced Spock.

"Welcome to my bridge, Mr. Spock. You'll find it very much like your own. Actually, that's what I'm counting on."

"I see. So this is your _Enterprise_. I was correct. You intend to take over our _Enterprise_, do you not, for your own nefarious purposes?"

The Other Kirk looked stunned for an instant, and then his face changed immediately to appear pleasantly surprised. "Nefarious, Mr. Spock? I doubt that 'nefarious' the correct word. I'd go more along the lines of…._diabolical." _ He cackled. It was laughter so similar to his own Captain's, but laced with an evil chill that seemed to suck the air out of the room. It was the brutal laughter of a man unhinged, gone far beyond the state of being _human_, even. The light in his eyes betrayed his madness. The intoxication of power had overwhelmed this Captain in a universe that encouraged such things above all others. He had finally cracked under the twisted system. But, insanity or no, this Captain was still as cunning and ruthless as he ever was, and could ever be. His quest for power had not dulled his ability to act. In fact, Spock realized, it had _resolved him_. As this realization came about, the Other Kirk continued.

"You see, Mr. Spock, this isn't about you, or your _Enterprise_, or even your pathetic Federation. It's about me and my ship and the Empire. _My_ Empire, mind you. It could've been. Oh, yes! High Senator Kirk. Caesar, even, in a matter of months." He paced back and forth by the side of the Captain's chair while Spock stood by, his expression composed and blank.

"I would've been on top of the world, head honcho of the galaxy, of all the _known_ galaxies, if it hadn't been for that… That insurgent. That malevolent _demon_ John Harrison! A 'peacekeeper', he called himself! He offered new life to the peoples of the Empire. New life and freedom! Imagine that! I ask you, what is peace to the conqueror? We were living it up, just fine and dandy, collecting tributes, exacting punishment and revenge, destroying worlds… If it hadn't been for that Harrison, the Empire would be as it should be: indestructible, in control, with _me_ in charge."

The Other Kirk spun around and walked toward Spock. He was shaking with rage. His anger and the obvious parallel between the Harrisons of each universe were not lost on Spock. No, he was merely forced to listen while the Other Kirk raved. He had to bide his time. Surely, an opportunity would present itself. He only had to be patient.

"Oh, yes. Total control of the Empire…! I was close, but, no. Not with Harrison and his corruption! The High Council was dissolved into a Coalition of peace and _democracy!_" He cackled in disbelief. "Democracy! Can you believe..? I wouldn't stand for it, oh no, not me. Not James T Kirk. James T Kirk would not _stand _for democracy!" He brought his fist down onto the rail releasing, and then recollecting, his frustration.

"So, I attacked the seat of the Empire. But, that Harrison- _Khan_ they're calling him now, some sort of ancient king's title- Sent the whole fleet after me. Aaaand that's why we're here, in your universe. To fix what was broken, replace what was lost. Our scatterbrained Mr. Scott managed to figure out the science behind all this-"He spread his arms at the screen, indicating Spock's universe, Spock's _Enterprise_ off in the distance. "You know: the science we needed to make the jump. A tricky little affair it was, too. You should've seen Scotty working the engines like a little madman. After we 'unloaded' the disloyal crew, he had a difficult time keeping up appearances… Ah well. But, oh, it _was_ brilliant, wasn't it? Masquerading as the ship my – oh and your Kirk's too, 'scuze me- dear old daddy bought it in? I figured the goody-two-shoes version of me wouldn't be able to resist. Couldn't keep away personally, but duty might cause him to keep back, maybe? But, no! Oh no, we were lucky! The best part is his friends- you guys, his _friends_- condemned him to watch as I destroy everything that's his. That's the best part. The best part for me." The Other Kirk took one last long look at the screen and the _Enterprise_ that he planned to conquer before turning back to face Spock.

"Now, if you'll please accompany me, Mr. Spock…" He held up his hand, "No, not you, Mr. Spock." In the blink of an eye, the Other Kirk drew a small box-like device from his sash and pressed a large red button. Spock waited, but nothing happened. When the Other Kirk began to chuckle, Spock looked around. To his near astonishment, he saw that the Other Spock stood frozen behind him.

"Do you like it, Mr. Spock?" Kirk waved the little box in his first officer's face. "I call it my 'Immobilizer'! Zap!" he danced around his First's frozen body with child-like glee. "Isn't it cute? I had Mr. Scott whip it up for me. I bet he modified it so it wouldn't to respond to his DNA, the sneaky little… Oh well. It only needed to work once." He stalked around the Other Spock with a fierce look in his eyes. "I've known, Spock, I've known about you. You've been on Harrison's side the whole time. Your blasted Vulcan logic, that's what did you in. Hmph. Fate sealed by your own philosophy. Well. Goodbye, Mr. Spock." The Other Captain turned to face Spock once again.

"Come along, Mr. Spock. I believe we will have an understanding. You will treat me as you always did your old Captain- your crew needs to be none the wiser- and I _won't_ have Sawbones dismember them. Oh, the good Doctor is every bit as capable with, say, a bone saw as yours is with hypospray. I'm sure he'd love to be able to split a few guts, maybe even do a bit of torture. So, just to re-cap, you make like everything's fine and dandy, and I _don't _kill your crew in terrible ways your innocent mind couldn't even begin to imagine. Deal?"

**Oh no he _didn't!_ Whatever will Mirror Kirk do next? Is Spock gonna be coll with all this? _Just how drunk is Doctor McCoy?!_**

**These questions and more will be answered in the final installment of _That Side of the Glass._ Tune in next time, and feel free to review. I'd love it. Thanks**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here it is! Say hello to the final installment. I think this is my favorite chapter, but I won't spoil it by telling you why. Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here. Shucks, I know, but that's life. **

**Some of you might have been wondering why I've labeled sections with character names, even though nothing is in first-person. I did that mainly for myself, to keep track of who I'd already "visited" in the story. That helped me get the events in order and stuff. **

**Anyway, here it is:**

McCOY:

The Other Uhura had them racing down the corridors. As fast as they could manage to go, Uhura, Sulu, McCoy, Semi-conscious Chekov, and all-out-oblivious Kirk made their way towards the bridge. McCoy was glad that Chekov had come around when he did. Shortly after the Other Uhura came in and updated them on the situation, he'd woken up. Whether it was the sudden rise of voices, or just the natural course of recovery, McCoy was thankful for his sudden return. _At least he can stumble along on his own. I still have to carry this dead-weight._ McCoy had Kirk slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. _Worth about as much right now, I swear. If he makes it, I'm ordering mandatory seatbelt use for the bridge. At all times. No exceptions. Heck, I'll even go for a double knock-out and convince Spock of the logic behind it._

Up ahead, Uhura turned corner after corner until they came upon the lift. She called back to the group. "Maybe we're not too late! Come on!" McCoy lowered Kirk to the floor. "Sulu, you stay here with Chekov and the Captain. We can't use you in a fight, and people might be hurt up there." Sulu nodded. "Go, Doctor. I'll hold the fort down here." McCoy nodded his thanks and filed into the elevator after the Uhuras. The lift doors closed and they sped away towards the bridge.

When the doors slid open again, they found themselves on a near empty bridge. The Other Uhura was the first out. She sped across the top level towards the Other Spock.

"Spock! Spock, are you all right?" As McCoy walked across the bridge, he noticed something was immediately wrong. This Spock didn't respond to anything the Other Uhura did. No response at all. Though it was perfectly normal for Spock to hide his emotions and all, _zero_ movement was highly irregular.

"What's going on here?" He came around to face the other Spock and noticed the goatee for the first time. "Well," he said, "It's a distinct improvement." He turned to Uhura. "Think you can get ours to grow one of those?" His remark was met with three pairs of icy glares. "Fine. Fine. What happened to you, Mr. Spock? Why are you as still and cold as your green-blooded heart?"

This Spock's eyes darted rapidly from one side to the front, locking with McCoy's. They darted back again. The action was repeated several times, each ending with a piercing, pleading look into McCoy's eyes. _He's trying to tell us something…_ McCoy followed the general direction of Spock's gaze. The Captain's chair fell in the immediate path. He walked over and noticed a small box sitting on one of the arms of the chair. He picked it up, turned it over, and walked back to face the Other Spock.

"Is this what you're looking for?" The Spock rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Now that's a Spock gesture I recognize! Ok, so, there're two of these buttons here. Which one is it?" Spock's eyes rolled again. "Oh, Ok, Ok. Look left for the green, right for the red, got it? Ready, go." Spock's eyes moved so far to the left they nearly disappeared into the side of his head.

"Right it is then." This remark caused such an agitated flurry of eye movements, McCoy thought those Vulcan eyeballs might roll right on out of the Other Spock's pointy-eared skull.

"Yeah, yeah I know. _Your left. _Would ya believe I was just playin' with ya, Mr. Spock?"

SULU:

Out in the corridor, Sulu leaned up against the wall while Chekov sat next to the limp form of the Captain. Sulu was content with babysitting, Captainsitting, or doing anything useful. He was on guard duty, sort of. _Making sure nobody gets up there till Doctor McCoy's good and ready._ He was reminded of his 'inactivity' in the Captain's chair earlier. _This is what it's about. Not charging boldly into the face of danger, thought that's cool too, but making sure that your crew is safe. The crew comes first, not your own personal desire for excitement. _He redoubled his focus. Sulu was watching the left corridor at the fork. He thought he saw something move down there, though it could've been a strand of his own hair waving, or just his nervous imagination. Something about this crazy ship wasn't right. The Other Uhura explained her Captain's plan, and how she and her Spock set out to stop it. They were Harrison's sympathizers, the Khan's people. _Funny how the different dimensions work like that. Over here, you'd swear they were _our_ Khan's people before-_

His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden burst of footsteps and Chekov's slurred warning.

"Sulu! Look out!"

He had just enough time to dive to the side before the point of a spear drove into the wall where he had been. Close behind the big weapon was his scar-faced doppelganger. The only difference between them was that thick scar above the Other Sulu's right eyebrow. He was enraged at the miss. He turned to stare down his injured counterpart, channeling his fury into a withering glare.

"This is going to be fun, finishing you off. It's a shame you couldn't live a bit longer. I'm headed up there to take out Mr. Spock and the other insurgents next." The Other Sulu took a step forward, but then buckled at the knees and dropped with a sharp cry. It was Chekov! He had kicked the Other Sulu's legs right out from under him. But the spear-toting Sulu was quick. He took hold of the pointed end of the spear and used the handle to apply the same trick to Chekov. Completely unprepared for the action, Chekov fell flat on his back, groaning and dazed. This was enough of a distraction for Sulu, though. He lunged and landed a kick square on the side of the Other Sulu's head. The spear hit the floor with a clatter but, the Other Sulu shook it off and was up in a flash. This time, there was both fury and confusion in his eyes.

"Why do you defend him? After all he's done? I would sooner kill him than come to his aid, regardless of who his enemy is!"

Sulu's eyes widened in surprise. "Chekov? This kid couldn't hurt a fly? What's your problem with him? Did yours do something so awful to deserve that kind of hate?"

Other Sulu let out a curt laugh, almost like a cough. His eyes remained locked with his counterpart's, radiating a passionate hatred that caught Sulu off guard.

"Who do you think gave me this?" His hand went up to his forehead, and he traced the thick line across his brow. Slowly, deliberately, he reminded himself and displayed to his counterpart the sins of the Other Chekov. "And after I take care of you and the insurgents," He continued, his voice adopting a trill of mock tenderness, "I'll kill this Chekov, too. Slowly. I'll make him suffer like I never could. A second chance at revenge, you could say." He looked down at Chekov, who was still stunned from the impact. Sulu caught the look in his eyes, and knew his duty. The responsibility of the captain's chair weighed on his shoulder, but it was a weight he easily bore. And now that he was aware of it, he channeled the magnitude of the duty into his actions. _Protect the crew_. His good shoulder slammed into the Other Sulu's exposed jaw. The doppelganger collapsed and did not try to get up.

_ He's not going to be trying much of anything for a while now._ Sulu reached out a hand and helped Chekov to his feet. The Ensign regained his footing, but had to lean heavily on Sulu while he sucked air into his lungs. _Maybe that kind of shock won't be good for him. I'll ask Dr. McCoy when he gets back._ As if on cue, the lift doors opened and the Other Spock, both Uhuras, and Doctor McCoy stepped out.

"There's no more time!" The Other Spock called out with some urgency, "We have to get to the transporter room before we're too late."

Doctor McCoy bent over and grabbed the Captain, hoisting him onto his shoulders once again. The rest of the party took off down the corridor right after Other Spock. They passed level after level and several confused gold-sashes. They didn't stop for security, though, and thankfully the Security didn't seem to care after spotting their own First Officer in the mix. That Spock led the way through engineering. Soon, the group rounded a sharp corner and found themselves face to face with the Other Captain, Spock, and the Other Scotty.

Other Spock halted at once outside the little chamber. Both Uhuras came to an effective stop, as did Doctor McCoy, who brought up the rear. Chekov and Sulu however, stumbled right into the middle. At the sight of them, the Other Kirk's face twitched with fury. Their very own Spock seemed for an instant surprised, shocked, afraid, and altogether completely in control of it. The only outward sign of change came in the form of a single raised eyebrow. He was still securely bound, which rendered him useless in the great standoff. The Other Kirk was first to react.

"S-Spock?" He stuttered with rage. "And you!" He pointed a finger at Chekov. Before anyone could respond, the Other Kirk swept Chekov into the air by his collar. "I thought I got rid of you. But, here you are! Back to haunt me. Always you, always you haunting me. Is it because you wanted it the most? The chair? You had to have it. Wanted it bad enough to try taking it by force? Well, I'll just take care of you again, just like last time." The Other Kirk, a crazed look in his eyes, whipped out his ornamented knife and twirled it in his fingers. "Little Russian smart-alec. Wanted all the power for himself. Well guess what? I'm the Captain around here so what _I _say goes-…"

The knife froze mid-twirl, as did the rest of the Other Captain. Chekov swiveled his head to see the Other Spock with the Immobilizer in his hand. Struggling and kicking a bit, Chekov attempted to remove himself from the deranged Captain's grip. With a twist, his collar came loose and he dropped to the floor. Uhura rushed over to untie Spock. The Other Scotty tried to make an escape, but he was truly surrounded. The Other Uhura helped Chekov collect himself. The Other Captain still stood there, frozen like a statue, glaring daggers at everyone. Chekov rubbed his neck and backed away slowly. Spock and Uhura stepped out into the corridor. The others followed. The transporter room was just down the hall. McCoy jogged up to the front even with the burden of the Captain on his shoulders.

"So, ahem, Spock. What's your opinion of facial hair?"

"Doctor McCoy!"

"Oh, come on Uhura. I'm just joking. No need to over…. React….."

McCoy stopped dead in his tracks just as the others had moments before.

"Dang it. I _knew_ we forgot about _something_!"

At the end of the hallway- sporting a busted lip and a glower that could melt steel- stood the Other McCoy: Doctor Sawbones. Trapped at his side, in a dangerous looking headlock, was Scotty.

"Hold it, Doctor!" The furious McCoy shouted down the hallway the group. "Don't take another step, any of you."

"What is it you want, you maniac?"

The Other McCoy sneered. "I want my revenge on you, Doctor. I'd gladly trade the life of Mr. Scott here, for yours."

"Fair enough. How do I know you won't try anything?"

"You don't."

Doctor McCoy sighed. There was only one way this could go down. He would go with this doppelganger, and die some horrible slow death, but the others could leave safely.

"Alright. Let Mr. Scott go. I'm coming." He turned to Spock. "Here: You carry the Captain."

"Doctor McCoy. How do you recommend I proceed?"

"Dang it, Spock! Just hold his knees and throw the rest of him over your shoulder! Your _dad gum shoulder._"

Spock took the Captain and McCoy began walking down the corridor. "All right, you sociopath. Let Scotty go."

The Other McCoy hesitated a moment, then brought his topmost elbow down to the back of Scotty's head. The Chief Engineer dropped the ground. McCoy raced forward.

"Why you dirty, cold-blooded scoundrel! There was no reason for that!"

The Other McCoy smirked. "Oh relax, Doctor. He's just unconscious-.." McCoy landed a swift uppercut to his doppelganger's jaw. Ready for such a move, the Other McCoy went straight for his knife.

"Oh, what're you goin' to do?" McCoy began his tirade, stalling, "It's pathetic! Our Federation has phasers for all its peace and love, but what does the all-powerful Empire have? Little knives! What do you guys say, 'Set daggers to stab'? Ridiculous!" Despite his bravado, McCoy flinched when the knife- point came dangerously close to the exposed flesh of his neck.

"I think it's time you stopped talking and started walking, Doctor. And don't any of the rest of you dare try an' follow!"

With no other options, Dr. McCoy turned and marched down the hallway as indicated by the knife at his back.

"So… What do you have planned? Physician to physician. I've got a right to know… to know the… procedures at least…" Panic swelled in his chest and he did his best to keep his voice even. Sure, he was concerned about the events approaching. Torture was daunting, he couldn't deny it. The second concern was for the others. They'd immobilized the Other Captain, but with so many injured, could they make it back to their _Enterprise_? Who knew what the radiation storm could do to the transporters? _All those molecules scrambled up and flying through the soul-sucking darkness of space. I can never understand how they make that thing work. But these conditions…_

They were getting closer to Sickbay. Sawbones stayed eerily silent, but the knife at his back maintained its pressure. Just a few more turns, as far as he could reckon from the layout similarity, and they'd be there. He'd be trapped with the Other Doctor. _I'd better make one last go of it. At least try and escape before it's too late. Just need to wait for the chance_…

They arrived at the door to Sickbay. As before, Sawbones paused to input the code on the security door, _No doubt to guard his precious knives or something. Now's my chance!_ He leapt at the Doctor's knife hand, trying to wrestle the blade from his iron grip. The struggle ensued for several second, before Sawbones broke away and lashed out at Doctor McCoy. Searing pain exploded from his ribcage. The knife had slit open his skin effortlessly, and slashed a line into the flesh covering the middle section of his ribs. His hands dropped from the fight to wrap tightly around his waist. McCoy could already feel the hot blood seeping through his sleeves.

Sawbones stood over him as the door to the Sickbay slid open with an air of finality.

"Welcome to the Sickbay, Doctor. I hope you're ready for an extended stay."

McCoy didn't look up. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground. Doubled over, he sat still. Soon, he would bleed out, if he could just keep Sawbones from the injury. It would be over soon.

He was vaguely aware of a dull thud somewhere nearby. A hand gripped his upper arm and he jerked away violently. The hand came back, this time with its twin on the other side. Bones lifted his head to glare defiantly at his captor, only to find himself staring into the eyes of-

"_Spock!_"

The Vulcan was standing over him, eyes betraying a great deal of concern.

"Doctor McCoy? Are you injured?" He noticed the blood seeping through McCoy's shirt. "Doctor," his voice held a higher note of alarm, barely perceptible through his Vulcan mask of stoicism, "Doctor, what is the extent of your injury. Here, allow me…"

Initially, he had to pry McCoy's arm from around his ribcage, but eventually, the Doctor yielded, shaken but relieved. When Spock spoke again, it was with the same urgency as before. "Quickly, Doctor, we must return to our ship." He coaxed McCoy to his feet, and when offered a shoulder to lean on, McCoy didn't refuse. He was so exhausted, yet light with solace. His hammering heartbeat was starting to calm. Unknowingly, he leaned more heavily on Spock, stumbling under the increasing weight of his own limbs.

"Doctor. You must stay awake at least until we reach the _Enterprise_. Doctor McCoy." The hand wrapped around the Doctor's shoulder tightened its grip, and shook with just enough force to bring McCoy around again.

"Spock… Where are we? Where are the others? Where's Jim?"

They were coming up on the Transporter room. And McCoy could hear voices coming from inside. Everyone was gathered there: Other Spock, the Uhuras, the Scottys: thankfully both conscious, Sulu, Chekov, and unconscious Jim. _Need to get him to Sickbay, pronto_, McCoy thought, but didn't have the strength to say aloud.

He was guided into the Transporter by Spock. Uhura joined them to one side. "We'll beam up first, Spock, with the Captain, and then the others will join us afterwards." The other Spock set the Captain gently down on the transporter pad. He looked up at Spock.

"It is fascinating, how your civilization developed around the idea of peace, and ours has only just reached that conclusion. How logical, for a civilization to seek unity instead of conquest. I am surprised none of our people discovered it before the Khan was recovered." He glanced around the room, and returned his gaze to Spock. "We will return and surrender the Captain for trial. I shall personally denounce him and pledge the loyal remainder of our crew to the Coalition's peace effort." He paused again. "Thank you, Spock of Vulcan, _USS Enterprise_ crew. The _ISS Enterprise_ is in your debt."

"You have repaid that debt with your aid, Spock of Vulcan." Spock finished the statement with the Vulcan salute. "Live long, and prosper."

The other Spock returned the gesture. "_Peace_, and long life."

He turned and nodded to his Scotty, who activated the transporter. The lights swirled around them, and they were away.

Sulu had the Conn. He sat in the Captain's chair and watched as the _ISS Enterprise_ disappeared into a ball of pink lightning. "_Though it is not in fact lightning but an altogether different phenomenon…" so says Mr. Spock. _Sulu was relieved to be back on his own _Enterprise._ Even with his arm in a temporary cast, Sulu was prepared to face the full responsibility of command. He swiveled in the chair.

"Navigator, plot a course to Starbase Six. Helm, best possible speed.

"Aye, sir. Kyle to engineering…."

"Right away, Keptin. Starbase Six, coordinates laid in, sir."

"Excellent. Mr. Kyle, take us out of here."

**WOO! It's over. I hope you liked reading this, and I'm glad you stuck with it, as weird as it got. Please review, and let me know what I did or didn't do right, or maybe something I could've done better.**


End file.
